


In Formal Wear

by TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)



Series: Tom and Abigail Series [19]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Awards, Awards Presentation, BAFTA Awards, Broken Bones, Car Accidents, Ceremony, Dress Up, Dresses, F/M, Injury, Minor Injuries, Paparazzi, Red Carpet, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3972712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something goes disastrously wrong when Tom’s girlfriend tries to join him at the BAFTAs.</p><p>
  <img/>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Formal Wear

**In Formal Wear**

“Luke, where’s Abby?” I asked over the din of the crowd on and around the red carpet, turning my head away from the crowd. It was a futile attempt to keep my personal life private when I was face to face with so many people. Fans and autograph seekers crowded the barricade in front of me while flash after flash attempted to blind me permanently. Taking the next black sharpie and scrolling quickly over the glossy eight by ten of me dressed as Loki, I smiled politely at the lines and mobs of people in my eye line. Luckily these people weren’t really seeing me or hearing me, they were all clamoring to get pictures of the next celebrity making an entrance.

Nights like these were always so chaotic, and I moved almost on autopilot. I had to turn off my brain and let the night take me where it would. The noise of the screams, the flashes, and the excitement could panic even the sanest person, and this event was no different. The only difference was my girlfriend of a few months was supposed to be beside me.

My publicist leaned into me, turning his head from the crowd before me to keep our conversation as secret as possible considering the venue. “I’m not sure, mate. I sent a car for her.”

“Did she ring your mobile?” I asked, quickly glancing at my wristwatch. Abigail was already an hour late, and I was beginning to feel a little uneasy by her absence. She was easily distracted, but she also knew the significance of tonight. She could be struggling with nerves, or caught up in rehearsal, or found another activity, or running late, or worse. My mind whirled with the possibilities, the unknown working my nerves.

Luke shook his head in the negative to my query. I offered another suggestion, “Did she ring mine?” Luke dug my iPhone from his trouser pocket, checked the display and shook his head again.

As another interviewer tugged on my sleeve, trying to pull me in front of another television camera for a chat, I quickly ordered, “Find her for me please. Get her here.”

Smiling brightly, biting back the bitter cold February night as I turned my attention to yet another interview, Luke nodded blankly and hustled off away from the madness to ring up the car company to track my wayward lover. I flashed my practiced smile for the camera, ignoring the mounting irritation for my significant other and launching into another vague speech about my upcoming project. As dear and loved as Abigail was to me, her flightiness irked me at times. This was not the night for a diversion to attract her attention. She had pushed for us to attend an event together, and she was missing it, I didn’t like it.

I talked my dresser into staying behind to help me into my gown for the red carpet event. I couldn’t handle all those buttons in the back with my nerves frayed, and my entire being practically vibrating with jittery nervousness. Tom finally agreed to have me with him, on his arm, as his date officially. After months of seeing each other, Luke agreed that we were serious enough to be seen as a couple. The image of one of England’s most eligible bachelors sewing his wild oats was not attractive in the eyes of his fans or peers. I’d passed the grace period, and I wanted Tom to not regret inviting me along.

Steph stripped my costume off me and put it with the other laundry as she made for the floor length gown. I slipped out of one set of undergarments into a fancier set, befitting the evening ahead. “So where are you going?” Steph asked curiously, admiring the gown.

I smiled in the mirror meeting Steph’s eyes in the reflection. “The BAFTAs.”

Her eyes grew wider with surprise. “How’d you snag an invitation to that then?” She lined the gown by my knees so I could step into it one foot at a time.

“I’m dating someone who was invited.” Trying to keep my trembling to a minimum, my dresser allowed me to lean on her to slip into the pink chiffon A-line designer evening dress. On my best days, I never choose to wear a dress, so this was an experience. Since Tom and Luke entered my life, I was seeing more and more of these. I picked this one because it was pretty and made me feel like a princess, but as a rule I don’t wear fancy clothes.

“Relax, honey… you are shaking, love.”

Breathing in deeply through my nose, I released it again in a big puff. Steph pulled the material of the dress over me and set it just right over my breasts. She began lacing the buttons into the tiny loops while I concentrated on breathing and centering myself. “My first and one with so many of my idols in one room, I’m overwhelmed, positively fit to bust. I’m not elegant like these people and this is way over my head, but I’m excited. Tom will calm me once I’m with him.”

“Is your beau coming to collect you?”

“Oh, no, he has contractual obligations to be there long before I could physically get there with the performance running long. He’s sent a car for me.”

“Ooohhh, Fancy!”

Steph assisted as much as she could with my hair and makeup before helping me into my heels. She wished me luck and told me once more to relax and remember to breathe, then excused herself as I was closing up my dressing room. There was a blue prius waiting for me at the curb around the front of the theatre. The chauffer opened the door and offered his hand to usher me into the backseat.

Luke and I entered the theatre through the glass doors, my irritation at its peak. Luke tried Abby’s mobile four times and met with only her voicemail. He was unable to find out from the car company an estimated time arrival or if the car was able to fetch my girl. Knowing Abby the way I do, she was entirely capable of being diverted by the smallest of activities and forget or disregard the bigger picture. She had been completely forthcoming about being nervous about this event, and it was quite possible her anxiety had gotten the best of her. Her insecurities might have forces her to run and hide. The unknown was killing me, worry mixed with annoyance.  

In the lobby, Luke’s mobile rung and he jumped for it. He checked the screen and breathed out, “It’s Abby.” He answered tersely, “Abby, where are you?”

I reached for the phone, eager to determine where she was. Luke turned away before I could grab it away from him. Immediately, my friend scrunched his eyebrows together in a look of concern. I heard Luke say soothingly, “Whoa, slow down… Abby… slow down. I don’t understand.”

“Give me the phone.” I demanded quietly, trying to keep this between Luke and me without drawing more attention.

Luke held the mobile tightly to his ear and swiveled away from me, pressing his palm to his other ear. He shot a look to me over his shoulder in warning. “Abby, I don’t understand, you need to slow down. Where are you?” A few moments later, he placed his hand over the receiver and gave me a bewildered expression. “She’s crying…” He shrugged helplessly. He knew how to handle a woman’s tears as much as he knew how to play American football.

The world halted abruptly, leaving me incapable of breathing. Something was terribly wrong if she was ringing Luke over me, and crying. My friend tried once more to calm my girl on the other end, “Abby, slow down. I don’t understand, doll. Let me give you to Tom.”

With an even tone, I stated again, “Give me the phone.”

Luke shook his head with another pensive, perplexed look. He held the phone away from his ear momentarily and said, “She won’t let me. She doesn’t want to speak with you.” He returned his focus back to the phone call, again trying to get Abby to talk so he could understand the trouble.

The tension that invaded in my body over the past few minutes was undeniable. I felt sick with worry. She was on the other end of the phone, but I didn’t know where she was or how she was or what was going on. I carefully thought through our morning together, and everything was fine. We had breakfast together before I left her for a few meetings and then she was off to work. We didn’t have a row or disagreement, only agreed to meet at this theatre. She couldn’t be angry with me, so this had to be something else.

A handler for the event waved Luke and I over to show us to our seats, but I held up my index finger, asking for a minute. Luke was trying to discern Abby’s location from the hysterical woman on his phone. Definitively, Luke said, “Abby, I have to give you to Tom. There’s things I have to do, and he wants to talk to you.”

Handing me the mobile, Luke went off with the handler to find the location of our three seats in the theatre. Making for a quiet corner, I spoke, “Abby? Where are you, baby? Please talk to me.” I was met with a round of sniffles and sobs that nearly broke me in half. This woman affected me in every possible way. “Abby, breathe, baby. You need to stop and breathe for a minute.”

“Tom, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” she gasped drastically, pulling air into her lungs. Hysteria had set in and her panic fed mine, but I couldn’t show that. Her tears physically pained me and I would do anything to get them to stop. She was killing me by degrees, each snuffle, each hiccough, each apology, each shaky breath she drew stabbed me in the solar plexuses.

Pragmatically, I said with a serenity that belied my pain, “Sweetheart, I’m not angry with you. Tell me where you are.”

She was breathing heavily into the phone, the sobs of worry rushing from her small frame in heaves. Her voice quivered, “Can you put Luke back on the phone? I don’t want to tell you.”

Firmly, I said, “Abby, no. Talk to me. What’s happened?”

“I’m in hospital. There was a terrible accident. The car… I don’t know… the driver, he…” She trailed off again as she seemed to relive her fear.

My blood ran cold, realizing for the first time that my girl might be in true danger. “Abby, are you hurt? That’s all I care about. Are you hurt?”

She sniffled pathetically. “Yes. I’m banged up a bit… and, and, and… my dress is torn.”

Despite the fact that I still didn’t know what had happened, I nearly smiled. She was worried about her dress and that I would be angry with her over her well-being. I took a tiny shred of solace that she would probably be okay, and she was panicking because of the events that she’d been through.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re upset but focus on my voice right now.” I spotted Luke over the crowd across the lobby and signaled that we had to go. “Are you with me, Abigail?” She meekly responded in the affirmative. “Good, love. Now tell me where you are, I’m on my way. Which hospital?”

I kept Abby talking as I hustled my publicist off to the A and E nearby, urging the cabby to break just about every traffic law in existence. Abby in her agitated state, fluctuated from begging my forgiveness to bemoaning a pain in her wrist. All I knew was I had to get to her. Every tissue of my being ached to feel her in my arms, to feel that she was alright.

“Tom, please don’t be cross with me. I’m so sorry. I tried to get to you.”

“Abby, don’t worry about that now. I’m not mad or angry with you. You didn’t cause this.”

“You are missing your event and that’s my fault.”

“Listen to me, Abby. You are far more important to me than any event. I need you, the rest doesn’t matter without you.” The cab pulled up and parked outside the hospital doors. “I’m going to ring off now because we’re here. I’ll be with you shortly.” I clambered out of the car with Luke in tow, clutching a bag full of forgotten gifts and cards from fans. “I love you, Abigail and once we’re together, everything will be fine.”

I heard Tom’s voice before I saw him, sitting on my waiting table. He was demanding my name to a flustered nurse who only just started her shift. I called out for him from behind the pale blue curtain barricade, maintaining privacy between patients. Luke hovered at the gap in the curtain as Tom nearly crushed me to his chest. He ran his hand over my hair, in his way, for me and very much for himself. He kissed the top of my head, inhaling my scent ensuring that I was real and in one piece. I knew at once he wasn’t angry or upset with me, he was worried.

If I ever had doubts of Tom’s affection for me, they were banished in those moments. He radiated concern, stress and turmoil, traits that were so uncharacteristic of him. He exuded confidence 105% of the time, and yet I had unhinged and rattled him slightly. “What happened? What’s hurt?” His gaze searched me frantically for signs of bruises and scrapes.

With effort from the dull ache in my wrist, I lifted my arm to show him my swelling left wrist. Gingerly he held my elbow and fingers, careful not to move them or jostle them in anyway. “The car stalled on the highway. It all happened so fast, I just remember being terrified. The car stalled, and the chauffer yanked me out of the backseat as a truck barreled down on us. He pushed me off out of the way to be sure I wasn’t hurt. I landed on my wrist, and I have a hairline fracture in there somewhere. The Prius was totaled when the truck struck it. The driver’s foot was clipped in the chaos. All gory and loud noises and screeching and screaming and pain.’

He sat down next to me as I recounted the horror and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders in comfort. This was a different kind of holding, a help me feel better but to confirm for himself that I was still whole; I was still his. He kissed my temple in another apparent sign of affection. He whispered simply, “Abigail.”

Taking my good hand, he weaved his fingers with mine. Luke collected a doctor to hurry the process of getting my wrist bandaged so he could get us out of there. Tom asked the doctor about the best ways to care for me while my bone healed, if I could work during that time, and any specific instructions managing the pain. He and Luke were the detail orientated people, and would see to my recovery. I watched Tom’s profile in amazement that he was so concerned for my well-being. I was astounded that he cared for me so deeply.

Luke went out to call us a car, to get us back to Tom’s when I was released. As Tom supported me on the way out, his arm around my waist as he watched me walk. I’d lost one of my heels in the ordeal so I was wearing grippy socks. With as much gratitude and love that I could muster, I said, “Thank you for coming for me, Tom.”

He looked at me seriously, his blue eyes displaying volumes. “I will always come for you when you need me. You only need tell me. Why didn’t you want to tell me?”

“Why I called Luke? And wouldn’t let him put you on? I knew you’d be upset that I was hurt, and I didn’t want to get in the way of your night with your peers.”

He squeezed me to him. “Abby, you are my night. My every night, my every morning and everything in between.”

“I’m still sorry that I stole this from you. I didn’t mean to.”

“Hush, love… you stole more than that.” He winked and kissed the top of my head. “For what it’s worth, Abby, you look stunning in your dress.”

The automatic doors slid open into the cold winter night. Tom took off his jacket covering my bare shoulders and keeping me warm for the small distance between the door and the car. “You are beyond beautiful, Tom… in every way.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Regarding Abigail](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429874) by [TheOtherCourse (kanevixen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanevixen/pseuds/TheOtherCourse)




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